


the voices within

by TheKitteh



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Ghosts of the Past - Freeform, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt with almost no comfort, Mentions of past abuse, Mentions of past child abuse, The Avengers: Endgame spoilers, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Bingo 2019, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony's POV, Tony-centric, mentions of death by dehydtration/suffocating, someone let my son rest dammit, stranded in space, team protect tony stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 09:02:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17680460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKitteh/pseuds/TheKitteh
Summary: Tony Stark Bingo 2019 - Square S5 "voice"With his last call to Pepper done, Tony watches the space around him.





	the voices within

“It’s always you.” 

 

Tony closes the connection, watches the light flicker off and fights the urge to take a deep breath of the scarce air. 

 

It’s surprisingly easy. Tony know there’s no need for extra dramatics, not when the situation is as dramatic as it is. 

 

He leans back, body aching; his stomach is a tight clench of hunger and his throat a dry rasp of thirst. His lungs protest, burn with too little air, but that’s a pain he’s more than used to. He watches the stars unfold in front of him as they have every other time he looked through the glass.

 

There’s infinity out there: bright and sparkling, and as beautiful as it is empty. 

 

Mankind always reached towards the stars, in poetry and science both. There is little difference between  _ per aspera ad astra _ and NASA, when he thinks about it, with the brilliant lights of the universe as the ultimate goal.

 

He’s sick of the stars and their gleam.

 

Sometimes he feels like he has spent his whole life looking up at stars of some sort. A white star among red and blue; his whole childhood he gazed upon those, tried to reach one of them and was constantly told he’d never get close enough. The stars at Howards’ fingertips when he stroke metal and and then slapped Tony’s cheek. Stars in front of his own eyes, as his head swam and bled; the brick wall as hard and unyielding as was laughter of the kids surrounding him.

 

Stars hiding monsters and tyrants, armies crowded between nebulas and comets. Stars in his dreams, meteor showers over dead bodies.

 

Yes, Tony’s sick of the galaxy spreading vast and endless.

 

Tony wonders if it would be so bad, to just let go. Release that last breath and close his eyes. Rest. He made the necessary arrangements . Everything is settled, everyone will be kept as safe as long as they lived.

 

_ If _ they lived.

 

Tony closes his eyes, tired of the universe and its untouchable lights. They still shine through his lids, muted but ever present, but it’s easier now. Easier to remember, to to recall the details that made his life important.

 

_ Next time, you’re ridin’ with me. _

 

The scorch of desert sun on his back, but he was safe; finally, finally home in his brother’s arms.

 

_ Tears of joy. I hate job hunting. _

 

The softness of skin and the steel of her spine, the fire they extracted from her veins. 

 

_ Yeah, I miss you, too.  _

 

The disappointment and loss that made him open his eyes again and again, the still weight of his friend’s body in a sterile room. 

 

His breath catches, a feat all on its own because he hadn’t take a proper one in days. But he thinks of Rhodey and Happy turning to dust, of Pepper’s skin becoming ash and his stomach burns, acid creeping up his throat.

 

He remembers the phantom grip of Peter’s hands hands,  _ I don’t feel too good  _ and  _ I’m sorry  _ echoing constantly in his head. 

 

And then, joining in the chorus of voices, a timbre long lost and never forgotten. Loved - sometimes Tony thinks it was the first thing he ever knew how to love. 

 

Missed. 

 

_ Time to get up, master Tony _ . 

 

Tony opens his eyes. Takes a deep breath, no matter how foolish it may be. He doesn’t have much time left and his body’s not what it used to be. He raises one hand, takes a long long look at his fingers. 

 

There’s a myriad of tiny scars all over the knuckles, thick calluses on the inside of his palms. Years and years of hard work, of burns  that came from metal and fire alike. 

 

He created and destroyed, then created again.  Saved lives and broke others apart. 

 

Sacrificed his kindest, brightest son while those very fingers were shaking, hurried in an arrogant attempt to shield the world. 

 

He briefly thinks of all the destroyed creations, of his unborn children that never had a chance to b and of all those who might never get one. 

  
Thinks of bright orange, of broken code scattered at his feet. 

 

“You’re done?”

 

Nebula’s voice rings clear and metal, coming from the doorway. She’s a barely-there silhouette in the shadows but Tony’s learned to see her clearly. 

 

“Yeah.” He says, straightens his shoulders and heaves himself up. Meets her eyes, dark and unreadable and yet so telling, and his grin is tired, but true. “Let’s go.”

 

_ Time to get up, master Tony _ . Echoes again, firm and loving.

 

And so Tony Stark does.

 

He stands up. 

**Author's Note:**

> let the Tony Stark Bingo 2019 begin!!!! 
> 
> huge shout-out to [ the delightful Cinna ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamon_Anemone/pseuds/Cinnamon_Anemone) for super fast beta job!


End file.
